Tag: Christmas Tree

I apologize for not being around the past couple of weeks. I have been busy with Christmas goodie baking and some personal matters. I shipped off a box of treats to the former Mrs. Translator on Monday for her to enjoy and share with Middle Son, Least Son, and their families. I also mailed out a box to Eldest Son and his mate since they are unable to come home this year.

I sent Black Walnut/Cream Cheese Pound Cake, Hickory Nut/Cream Cheese Pound Cake, Apricot Bread, Black Walnut/White “Chocolate” Toll House Cookies, and of course Lizzies. It was warm and I was unable to get the Myer’s Rum Truffles rolled Sunday night, so they missed out on them. I finally froze a one liter bottle of water and used it to keep my hands cold Monday evening so I was able to get them rolled Tuesday. Some of them I dipped in tempered milk chocolate, some I coated with cocoa powder, and some I coated with confectioner’s sugar. I have improved on the recipe in the link, so ignore it. At the next available What’s for Dinner? I shall publish the improved recipe. Last night I took care packages to my neighbors who are also my friends, including the truffles.

Those of you that read this regular series know that I am from Hackett, Arkansas, just a mile or so from the Oklahoma border, and just about 10 miles south of the Arkansas River. It was a rural sort of place that did not particularly appreciate education, and just zoom onto my previous posts to understand a bit about it.

I have mentioned previously how much my mum loved Christmas. She loved wrapping the gifts, cooking the goodies and meals, and even buying the gifts. But most of all she loved to decorate the interior of the house. (The outside belonged to my dad to decorate.) A major part of decorating was the tree itself, but she did the whole downstairs as well.

We never bought a tree (except for one of those three foot aluminum ones popular in the early 1906s on which she would hang the Christmas cards). We always went out and got our own. Before I was old enough to go, my brother and dad would go get one, usually from the farm. Later, after he married and moved away and I got older, my dad and I would go.